Stay
by Liasis
Summary: Hermione's N.E.W.T.s are upon her, and two weeks from now feels like forever - especially when saying goodbye to Severus Snape. Quick one-shot plot bunny - now updated with their happy reunion. SSHG
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Story is set in an AU where Hermione saved Severus from the effects of Nagini's attack._

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She looked down at him sprawled languorously beneath her upon his settee. Severus wore his black neck tie and white shirt, his black jacket haphazardly flung over the back of the armchair beside them. Her heart was large and aching with emotion in her chest.

"I have to go - I have to study," Hermione mumbled sadly, drawing away, his hands reluctantly leaving her back and trailing along her arms. She pulled at her ponytail to fix it and moved off of him, standing up. She looked to the door and then down again. Though she had been there a while, Hermione saw him anew - his lips red from kissing, the blush on his cheeks, the desire in his expression - and frustratedly exclaimed, "Oh!" She bent over him again and pressed her lips to his once more in earnest. She couldn't bear to part with him, not when he looked like this.

One hand was on her arm, the other tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Stay," he whispered plaintively, through the kisses.

"I can't," she mumbled back sadly, feeling a tug in her stomach, wishing with every part of her that she could.

She drew away again. She looked down upon him, her heart burning for him, his black eyes large and full of yearning. Her hand went to the strap of her school bag, but after giving him another glance she dropped it, turning her head upwards and groaning aloud. The pull he had on her heart was too strong to ignore.

She clambered back upon him and he gave a small chuckle just before her lips found his. "Oh, this is such bad timing!" she cried pitifully, straddling his hips, his hands now cupping her face as they kissed, his nose pressing against her cheek. He was grinning. "I can't stop thinking about you, and there's only one week until my N.E.W.T.s, and-"

"Damn your N.E.W.T.s," he grumbled. She pulled up and he raised his torso from the arm of the settee, sitting up to meet her, his hands moving to hers. "Please, stay," he murmured, "just for a little while-"

"No, I can't-" she gasped, before pressing her mouth upon his, his lips then finding their way across her jaw, then to her throat. Her breath was hot in his ear. "Severus," she whispered, her eyes closed, but whether she wished to dissuade him or entice him he did not know. His hands rushed down along her sides, feeling the softness of her grey wool jumper. His fingers then found their way under the hem and up the starched fabric of her white shirt. She was unmoving under his touch.

"My god, you are beautiful," he breathed, looking up at her, one hand upon her waist, the other moving up her back. She blushed further, his words causing her stomach to flutter about.

She leaned over him again and he lay back against the arm of the settee, a faint grin on his lips, feeling the weight of her body against his, his hands exploring her. After another frenzy of kisses, she broke away with a gasp.

"No, no - I _have_ _to_ go," she insisted, disentangling herself, one foot going to the floor as she sidled off him, followed by the other, his hand holding onto hers before she stepped away. She picked up her bag with one hand and put the strap over her shoulder with the other, slipping on her shoes. "I have to go," she repeated, steeling herself, speaking quickly. She leaned back over him, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself and brushing her lips against his before finally breaking away. "I have to go now, or I never will."

He stared after her as though he could not look away, as though he didn't mind if she never left and would rather prefer it if she didn't, but he did not say a word.

She walked quickly to the door, hoping to put as much distance between them as she could. "I'll see you - I'll see you when I can," she called, opening the door and stepping through it, giving him one last mournful look before decidedly closing it behind her.

He placed his hand over his mouth, one finger pointed upwards along the side of his face. His gaze then went to the clock on the mantelpiece, his eyes fixed upon the second hand. He watched it tick forwards several times before his eyes shifted back to the door.

He watched it swing open, Hermione bursting through, then heard it promptly bang shut behind her. She moved the strap from off her shoulder and threw her bag down near the hearth, striding determinedly towards him, her eyes never leaving his. She tore off her jumper and threw it on the armchair, stepping out of her shoes, her mouth open in anticipation before she settled into his lap. He embraced her, bringing her close, his hands in her hair and his tongue parting her lips, a noise of deep pleasure issuing from the back of his throat.

They broke apart for only a moment, Hermione's hands deftly going to his neck tie and quickly undoing it. "You haven't the faintest idea what you do to me," he muttered, his hands going to her arms and then her back, folding her against him.

She unwound him so easily, so utterly.

Her mouth was on the underside of his throat, then on his again, before she unexpectedly drew away. "But I'm not going to stay as long as I did yesterday," she insisted, her expression intent. She looked at the clock, her ponytail tickling his chin. He simply appeared amused. "Six - I'll leave by six."

"You may as well stay for dinner, in that case," he countered, smirking slightly as she looked down at him.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, becoming frustrated with him again, the flat of her palm impatiently tapping his shoulder. "You say that, and then it'll be, 'Stay for a cup of tea,' and then, 'What is it you're studying, in any case,' and then, 'It's so late, you may as well stay here, save you the walk back-'"

"It _is_ quite the walk to your room-"

She redoubled her efforts, kissing him deeply as she pulled away his neck tie, tossing it onto the armchair without looking, curling into him as much as she could. His hands were at her waist, gripping tightly, his ability to concentrate impaired by the thought of her intentions. She unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, feeling the smoothness and the heat of the skin beneath it. Every time it was as the first, as if she was discovering him all over again.

She shifted her body to press against his hips and distinctly felt his arousal beneath her. It always caught her by surprise how she was able to elicit such a physical reaction in him, and how quickly. She looked at him from under hooded eyes and pressed against him, more firmly, watching as his black eyes slowly closed and then opened again.

Suddenly, they were frantic for one another. His hands went under her skirt, finding and pulling at the waistband of her tights as she kissed him. He exposed the white of her skin as he pulled the black hose away with her help from one leg, then the other, his hands then marveling in how smooth they were.

Her already loosened tie was removed, her hands and then nails trailing along the skin beneath his shirt. He moaned quietly into her mouth before his hands again went beneath her skirt, finding her knickers and pulling them down from her hips. She took them off as he shifted further down the settee, now lying flat on his back.

She moved to lie upon him but he stopped her, his hands on her shoulders, both breathing shallowly. His hands slowly moved from her knees up along her thighs, caressing them, his eyes going to hers and back before he reached and pressed the back of her thighs, motioning for her to move forward. She obliged, her weight resting on her knees which were now near his ears, her calves tucked along his side. He pushed her skirt so that it rode up to her middle.

"Severus," she whispered, feeling him lay kisses upon the inside of one thigh, then the other, then kissing her center. She shivered. She did not know where to put her hands, and they drifted from his hair to the back of the settee and finally to the arm as his tongue sought her. She whimpered, moving slightly closer to his mouth, and he began in earnest, his tongue making circles at her core. She moaned aloud, her thighs tightening around him. His arms were wrapped around her thighs, then his hands went to her breasts, feeling them through her shirt. His black eyes stared up at her from under his eyebrows, and she moaned again at the sight.

She now reached back, her hands finding the buttons of his trousers, fumbling to undo them as she trembled. At long last she found her way, her hand reaching into the fabric and delicately taking hold of his member, enjoying the feel of his velvety soft skin and the look of pleasure on his face as his eyes closed in response to her touch. She began to softly stroke him, listening to the hitch in his breathing as she did so. He then began sucking and kissing and flitting his tongue against her anew, his hands running along the warmth of her inner thighs. After several blissful minutes of simply allowing her body to feel and respond to his touch she froze, one hand still grasping him, the other moving from the back of the settee to his hair as she came, her release loud and intense and shattering.

She gasped, spent, feeling him kiss along her thigh again before she gathered the strength to move away and stand up, her legs shaking. He removed his trousers and underwear and stood too, his lips soft upon hers as he held her close, his need pressing and apparent against her thighs. She ran her hands down his back before turning away from him, looking at the settee and then back to his gaze. She took his hand to draw him close, then climbed onto the seat, kneeling and facing away from him.

He still could not believe it, believe her - Hermione Granger before him, wanting him, a willing partner. He could hardly restrain himself. He positioned himself just behind her, his hands gently caressing her hips before raising the back of her skirt, pressing himself against her then, achingly slowly, into her. They both groaned deeply at the feeling, their chests heaving, taking a moment to revel in the feel of the other. His grip on her hips tightened, his eyes closed, before he began to move ever so slowly out, then back into her. Hermione's head hung low, resting against the back of the settee as she trembled, feeling him adjust himself again and begin thrusting in and out at a slow but even pace.

She cried out and he reached beneath her, his fingers upon her core, his other hand running along her arm, her breasts, her stomach as he leaned over her back, close to her. It was almost too much - his fingers, his breath, the sounds of his gasping - and she struggled but managed to meet him at every stroke, pushing back to him. It unnerved her, how good this could be.

Severus varied his pace, alternatively taking long, slow strokes, then short fast ones, before stopping to simply explore her, still deep inside her, his fingers undoing several buttons at the top of her shirt to feel the skin beneath, his hands rushing along her arms, her back, her legs, every part of her pleasing to him as she shivered under his touch.

He then withdrew, his hands and his eyes never leaving her as he lay down on the settee as before. He let her climb into his arms and embraced her, finding her warmth, both giving a cry of pleasure when he entered her again. His lips found hers and they lay there leisurely, he softly stroking in and out as she trembled, her eyes closed, her right hand upon his hair and his ear and his shoulder.

Severus paused and drew his legs up so that his feet were flat on the settee, allowing him more leverage. He wrapped his hands around her back and began thrusting upwards into her, at first slowly, his pace then quickening as he knew he would be unable to hold off much longer.

"Severus!" she exclaimed breathlessly, her cheek pressed to his as she felt a tightening, then another intense, all-consuming shudder wracking her body. She cried out in pleasure, her body clinging hard to his, then whimpered into his ear as he stroked in and out below her. His hands clutched her as he too found his release, his body tensing as he moaned aloud. He thrust in and out a few times more before relaxing, their chests heaving from their exertion, lips red, cheeks pink. His hand went to her hair, sifting through it before resting upon her back once more.

She lay upon him, exhausted, her arms wrapped around his torso just as he was tangled around her. Her eyes found his and they kissed gently before she pulled away from him, lying on her side as he turned on his to hold her.

He could never tire of this, he thought, as she lay there in his arms. He lazily circled the fingers of his right hand upon her back, through her shirt. She laid her left palm upon his cheek, stroking his nose, his lips, his chin lovingly with her thumb. His black hair fell upon his face and she tucked it behind his ear, before trailing her fingers slowly down his forehead, his nose, across the deep line between his high cheekbone and the corner of his lips. His eyes did not leave hers.

"I... I suppose I should be leaving soon," she said quietly, her breathing finally returned to normal.

His dark eyes moved to the clock and then back to hers. "I still have three minutes," he murmured, his voice deep and calm. He touched his nose to hers, waiting for her to turn her face upwards, her upturned lips finding his again.

She let out a little sigh, her eyes closed, feeling as he gently placed kisses upon her mouth and then her eyelids, her brow, her forehead, her nose, then her mouth once more.

After a little while Severus reluctantly stopped. He unwrapped his arms from around her and allowed her to move away from him, watching as she stood and began replacing her clothing. He followed suit, and when she turned back to him they both were more or less fully dressed.

He stepped towards her and his hands went to the top of her shirt. "When will I see you again?" he asked quietly, doing up the buttons.

Her heart fluttered. "I'm not sure. I - I have quite a lot to do," she mumbled. He took her loosened tie from the armchair and placed it over her head, gently pushing up the knot and adjusting her collar. Her hands were at his waist. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I start my exams next week, and they'll take another week to finish." He looked down at her over his hooked nose, appearing stoic. She knew he was disappointed. "After that, we'll have all the time we like."

"I can hardly fathom waiting two days, much less two weeks," he admitted quietly, the fingers of one hand twisting the curly tip of her ponytail.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to the soft thumping below. His hands sat heavy upon her lower back.

"You should be off, then," he said after a few moments. "Unless you would like to stay for dinner?" he asked hopefully.

"It's not a matter of _wanting_ ," she mumbled sadly.

She let go of him and stepped backwards, bending towards the fireplace to pick up her bag. He was beside her when she stood straight, and after placing the strap on her shoulder she tilted her head up for a kiss.

"I love you," she whispered, her eyes searching his, two weeks now seeming like an endless period of time to her.

"And I, you," he returned. His eyes were soft but his brow was furrowed. He did not like the prospect of saying goodbye either. He walked with her to the door to see her off. "You'll let me know when you're through, then?" he asked, looking at her almost sheepishly.

"Of course," she said, grinning. She kissed him one last time, her hand upon his arm, then looked up at him before placing her hand upon the doorknob.

"Good luck," he offered, "although I should hardly think you will need any." He watched her step away.

"Thank you," she murmured, with a smile. She turned the doorknob and stood upon the threshold, looking out into the corridor. She then looked at him, gave him a small wave, and finally closed the heavy wooden door behind her.

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Hope you've enjoyed. If you have, please review and check out _Confluence of Truths,_ my recently rewritten SSHG fic which is based in the same AU as this story xx


	2. Chapter 2

Severus was sat in his chair, his arms crossed. He was certain today was Saturday - he had counted the days, like a prisoner in a cell - and Hermione's last exam had been scheduled for yesterday. But she had not come as promised, and he did not know why.

He slowly tapped his foot on the floor in thought, uncharacteristically anxious. Yesterday, as the hours ticked on, he assumed she had taken more time than expected to finish her exam. It would be like her, to want to be thorough. But as time passed he considered that maybe he had misheard, and her exam simply ended later than he remembered her saying. Then when four o'clock became five, he reasoned she might have wanted a shower, maybe have some dinner, or wanted to take a bit of time to herself. It was understandable - she had certainly worn herself out in preparation for her exams.

Then nine o'clock had become ten and he knew she was not coming that night. His disappointment quickly turned to fear when his stomach was seized with the thought that something had happened to her, as unlikely as that was. It had been a long, restless night, his ears open to the sound of her tap on his door. But then she had not come this morning either, not bright and early as she did on a Saturday. He reasoned that she had perhaps overslept in the wake of her exhaustion, but it gnawed at him. She had promised to come as soon as her exams ended and it was unlike her to not keep her word. This wait which stretched out interminably behind and before him, but which might end at any moment with a knock on his door, was maddening.

Severus further tightened his crossed arms. He looked at the clock upon the mantel. It was nine in the morning - she was almost always here by now. His rooms felt so desolate and cold without her presence, like an empty grate in a fireplace that was usually lit.

His thoughts turned to himself. What did he normally do at nine in the morning on a Saturday? What had he done with himself over the years, before she had become a fixture in his life? Had there been anything - at all - before her? It didn't feel like it.

He would have been making potions for classes, reading the paper, or marking assignments, he supposed, looking at the stack of parchment upon the table, the last marking of the school year. It all seemed so empty now. How could he have been content filling up the hours of his life with such meaningless work?

He shook his head. No, not meaningless - just seeming so in retrospect. Before, he had been staring at shadows on the wall of a cave. And now... he had seen the fire.

He stood up, desperately wanting to find something to occupy his mind with, and walked into his kitchen. Perhaps a cup of tea would calm him. He removed a cauldron from a stand and set a kettle in its place, lighting a flame beneath it. He stowed his wand, his arms crossing once more as he leaned back against the cabinets. What had they done the last weekend they had spent together, then? It seemed so long ago.

He remembered now having breakfast with her on Saturday, at this very table. She had given him half of her omelette because she didn't particularly like eggs, and could only stomach so much. He'd given her a few fried mushrooms in return.

She then wrote out her notes for Charms in preparation for that exam, then they had lunch together, and in the afternoon they practiced several spells for her Defense N.E.W.T. Despite how advanced they were, it had only taken a few tries for her to have them thoroughly mastered.

She was so talented that she hardly needed his help. He had thought himself advanced when at school, but she was another thing entirely. And yet, she didn't seem to think herself so. Her pursuit of excellence was almost obsessive, to the point where sometimes he wished she would lay down her wand, put away the parchment, and simply sit at his side, focus her attention on him and let him do the same to her, let him twirl her hair through his fingers, place his palm on her cheek...

He felt guilty at the thought. It was not his place to discourage her passion for learning. He was - had been - her professor, soon to be guiding her as his apprentice. The more he thought on it, the more he felt she would be testing him as much as he would be testing her over the next few years. He just hoped that her need to push herself came from the enjoyment of it, and not from the fear that she was somehow not good enough. He knew that was what he had felt when he was younger, afraid of his Muggle-like upbringing, that it had set him behind his peers. He hoped she knew she had nothing deeper to prove to anyone, especially not to him.

Severus now thought of the duration of her apprenticeship with him spanning in front of them, and it felt almost too good to be true. But no... he would not get ahead of himself. He would take it one day at a time - one blissful, beautiful day at a time - and take none of it for granted.

Of course, he would prefer for this precise moment to tick forward a little bit faster.

He drank the cup of tea while standing in his kitchen. He looked out the window at the grey clouded sky, feeling as though he was standing at the bottom of a well, before his gaze again shifted towards the wooden door to the dungeons. Finding himself not the slightest bit relaxed he decided upon taking a shower, hoping this would calm him.

Severus placed his cup in the sink and walked into his bedroom, leaving the door to the living room slightly ajar in case she was to appear. He took his wand and ran it down his front, unbuttoning his jacket and then his shirt, thinking how the last time they'd been together it had been her eager hands doing this. It was almost unimaginable. He placed his wand on the dresser and removed his clothing.

He walked into the bathroom, turned on the taps, and stepped into the shower. He took the bar of soap sitting on the side and lathered it up, running it over his body, thinking again of her.

He had never felt like this before - not ever. Almost every thought from the first upon waking to the last before he went to sleep was on her, on what she would have thought about something he read or an idea he had for a spell or a potion. But his imagination was a poor substitute for the real thing, the very real woman who smiled at him, kissed him, spoke to him as an equal. It was love, tugging at him, unceasing and insistent. He had never felt love for someone like this. And never had it been returned, and so earnestly.

He thought of Lily Evans, and his stomach twisted. Her name only brought shame, guilt, and pain. He had loved her, yes, but they had only ever been friends, the longing for something more undeniably his and his alone. He had kissed her once when they were young, sitting on the swings, but it had been chaste, on the cheek, and fairly awkward. She had acted as though he hadn't done it. He had never tried again.

This was different in every way. He was a grown man now. He knew himself - or so he thought he did. He thought he knew which emotions he was capable of, which ones he wasn't. He had been startled by this. Love, to him, had been something that one felt in the direction of another person, hoping that they would see it and acknowledge it. He had not realized what a thing it could be when that person felt it in return.

He finished washing his body and his hair and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. He grabbed the white towel which hung from a hook on the wall and wrapped it around his middle, leaning over the sink to brush his teeth. He looked at himself in the mirror afterwards, the fog on the glass slowly disappearing.

He took the towel from around his body, used it to roughly dry his hair, and hung it back upon the hook. He turned, again looking in the mirror at the body that he had allowed her to see so many times. It seemed unfamiliar to him now. He hadn't looked at himself in this way for such a long time, as though looking through another's eyes. He thought of her hands on him, rushing down his skin. He shivered. He thought of her hands on his member, then her mouth... He felt that urge rising in him again. He closed his eyes. He had never had that before. Not from anyone.

Severus took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, beginning anew his self-appraisal. He was not too skinny, but there was no fat on him either. He pinched the skin around his middle, watching it bounce back to its original state. He did not have much muscle really, although his body was fairly well defined. His calves were small and muscular, his thighs just the same as anyone else's, he imagined. His shoulders were a bit broad but he was not a large man, and despite the fact he stood a little over six feet he did not feel as though others would regard him as particularly tall. His chest was just that - a chest, only a bit of hair upon it, leading down to a waist slightly narrower than his hips. He felt that he was decidedly average, though his skin was a bit yellowed and the black of his hair was harsh against it. It was the Mark on his left forearm, though, that was the most distracting aberration, a hideous blemish on an otherwise fairly plain canvas.

He bent closer towards the mirror, inspecting his feathered eyebrows, his hooked nose, the lines leading from the corners of his mouth along his cheekbones, his pointed chin. He tilted his neck upwards and inspected the thin red lines where Nagini's fangs had pierced him. He struggled not to flinch. He lowered his chin and watched his own black eyes flicker up and down. His brows were furrowed, his expression one of confusion. What on earth did she see in him? He sighed and looked away.

Severus left the bathroom and dressed himself in a fresh set of clothes before placing his hands on the back of his armchair. He looked up towards the mantel. To his dismay, hardly any time had passed.

He became like a tiger pacing in a cage as the hours wound on, unimaginably long, his eyes never straying far from the clock. He finished the last of his marking for the year. He ate lunch at his table. He cleaned out a few vials of ingredients which had been lost in the back of one of the cabinets. He found it irritating that the magic which made the manual tasks of his life so simple meant he was devoid of anything with which to busy himself. He sat in his armchair and picked up a book, but the attempt was laughable - he knew he would be unable to concentrate.

It exasperated him that he could not stop this thinking, that after two decades of supreme self-control he had somehow lost the ability to shut his mind from unwelcome thoughts. But perhaps that was the crux of it - these thoughts were not unwanted. He did not really wish to stop thinking of her.

There were four light knocks on the door. He sat up straight, his head turning towards the sound, his fingers white from the pressure of their grip upon the arms. He was frozen. After this excruciating, seemingly unending wait, could it really be...? And there it was again, four quiet yet impatient raps on the door. Her-mi-o-ne. His heart leaped into his mouth. He was instantly undone.

He steadied himself, placed the book he had been holding upon the side table, ran his hands through his hair, and then stood up. He swiftly covered the space between his settee and the door, opening it quickly.

And there she was - a grin forming on her lips as she looked up at him, her fingers twirling around the string of the beaded bag she held in her hands, looking pleased to see him, perfectly all right and lovely, so lovely, as always. She quickly stepped over the threshold and he closed the door behind her, relief washing over him. He watched as she placed the bag on the floor near the fireplace and then turned to him.

He was in front of her instantly, embracing her, his hands going to her warm back as hers wound around his waist.

His lips found hers, savoring them deeply. Between frantic kisses, he managed to say, "I thought you - were meant to - have finished - yesterday."

"I was - supposed to," Hermione replied. She momentarily pulled away. Her brown eyes found his and he could hardly hear her words. "Half an hour into the exam Harper's cauldron exploded, they had to reset the whole thing for today - did you not hear? I've only just fin-"

His mouth was hard on hers, his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs running along her jaw before he said between kisses, "I waited for you - yesterday - last night - and today." She opened her eyes and looked into his, reading his fear and worry and now longing in them, his nose and mouth only centimeters from hers. She shivered. He pushed his body against hers, holding her close as he kissed her, his achingly hard member now pushing against her hip. She struggled to remain composed in the face of his desire.

Their lips broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, his nose touching hers. "I'm sorry - I should have sent an owl," she mumbled. "I thought about it but I was so tired, and really wanted to spend as much time as I could reviewing with the extra-"

He did not allow her to finish. His mouth was hard on hers again, his hands still framing her face, and he could hear the whimper in her throat, her fingers grabbing hold of the fabric of his jacket as she leant into him. Her hands let go and moved to his chest, undoing the buttons along the front of his jacket as quickly as she could. She loved this, the delicious tension it caused them, that she was the one to disrobe him, the only one to see him like this, the contrasting crisp whiteness of his shirt as she finished in her task and slid the black fabric off his shoulders. He removed his arms from the sleeves, wondering why he even bothered to put it on in the first place, and discarded it behind him onto the settee. Throughout, his lips never strayed far from hers.

His hands went to remove her tie as she pressed her body against his. At the feel of her weight against him, he backed onto the arm of the settee, now leaning against it, her tie joining his jacket, their hands exploring the other as though they could not get enough. He spread his legs slightly and she edged between them, not wanting to be any distance from him. Her hand wandered down his front unexpectedly, down to where her body met his, her palm finding and pressing against his warmth. She could feel his stiffness through the taut fabric.

His lips left hers and he let out a small breath of air, her eyes so close to his, watching them as her hands then drifted to the buttons of his trousers. She undid them, her eyes never leaving his, and she took hold of his member, gently pulling it out from the fabric which restrained it. Severus made a noise of desire in his throat, whispered her name, and stiffened further at her touch. His hands went to the arm of the settee behind him as he placed his weight against it, trying to remain in control of himself.

She lowered herself onto her knees and looked up at him. She felt a sudden thrill at the surprise and longing on his face, and he felt a thrill at what she was doing, at the fact that she so clearly wanted him too. She kissed his tip then trailed down the length of him with her tongue, then ran her open lips along him, watching his expression. His mouth was open slightly, his eyes closed, color rising to his cheeks. Despite his obvious pleasure, she felt that she still had so much to discover to figure out what it was that he liked best. Even now, she could not believe what it felt like to have him before her, to have his trust for this, his attention fully upon her, wanting her in this way. It was unlike anything else.

She found him with her mouth and took him into it, letting her tongue explore every bump and ridge. He let out a small moan, closed his mouth then opened it again, opening and closing his eyes, wanting to watch her but struggling against the pleasure. His skin was soft under her tongue which she used to tease him, placing pressure against the head, then beneath it, enjoying the taste of him, feeling his thighs tense in response. She took as much of him into her mouth as she could, listening to him gasp as she did, his hands sifting through her hair before going back to the settee. She then found the base with her fingers, beginning to stroke up and down leisurely and then in earnest, removing her mouth so she could stroke his entire length. After a little while, his hand went to her shoulder and she stopped, not wanting to send him over the edge - not just yet.

Hermione stood and Severus's mouth pressed onto hers eagerly, his hands on her back and in her hair, his throat tight as he whispered her name again. She felt weak in the knees. She stepped backwards and he followed, taking his wand out of his pocket and impatiently waving it towards both of their shirts, unbuttoning them in one motion as he removed his trousers. Hermione now stood with her back to the wooden table and he was above her, his mouth on hers, his wand rolling away slightly as he laid his hands flat on the table behind her. Her fingertips ran along the skin of his chest and he froze above her, enjoying the feel of it too much to move. She eventually took hold of the front of his shirt and pushed the fabric past his shoulders, watching him now reach back to remove it, one arm free of a sleeve and then the other. She took in the sight of him and placed her hands on his chest as he moved closer to her.

His hands went to her waist then moved to her lower back, undoing the catch at the back of her woolen skirt. He found the small zip and tugged at it, then pulled the skirt down from her hips. She removed her black hose and kicked off her shoes. His hands moved beneath her shirt and were at her waist again, mesmerized by the softness of her skin. She was softer than anything he could remember touching.

She hopped up onto the table, facing him. Severus stood with his thighs against the edge of the table as she folded her legs around his waist, hooking her feet together at the ankles. His hard member stood between them, a reminder of how much he wanted her, but he could not quite reach her at her height. She trailed her hand down his front, teasing him as she purposefully did not touch the part of him that wanted her most. Her hand wandered down his stomach, across the top of his thighs, then from one hipbone to the other, just beneath his navel, watching him twitch upwards involuntarily. He breathed shallowly through his nose.

With much concentration Severus took his wand which laid beside his hand and tapped the table, watching it shorten by several centimeters, Hermione too sitting lower. Her hips were now perfectly aligned with his. He replaced his wand and peeled her shirt away from her, exposing her pink skin and black bra, tossing it onto the settee before pressing his torso against hers. He held her in his arms, kissing her deeply, his large hands supporting her back as he gently leaned forward so that she now laid on her back on the table, and he upon her.

She felt him pressing against her underwear, her desire for him almost painful now. He ran his hands down her body then up again, placing his palms upon her cheeks, making deep noises of pleasure in the back of his throat. He was simply everywhere, above her, against her, his hands in her hair, his tongue now seeking entrance to her mouth. She arched against him and hoped that he would not wait any longer. He knew she was ready for him.

His hands found her underwear and pulled it away from her, letting her go only for a moment and then quickly allowing her arms and legs to wrap around him as he met her again.

"Severus," she whimpered, almost begging. Neither could wait any longer. He pressed against her and, with a feeling that was so utterly blissful it was almost agonizing, he was slowly enveloped by her, his mouth above hers as they moaned together. It was almost a relief to be here once more, the feel of her becoming so familiar to him, the knowledge that she was just beneath him intoxicating. And yet, it did nothing to free him of his desire, for he now only wanted more. He began to stroke in and out of her, slowly at first and then with increasing speed.

He felt her writhe under him in pleasure, listening to her cries, her legs wrapping around his middle. She pulled him towards her just as much as he pulled away. He greedily explored her body as his hips flexed back and forth, his hands finding the straps of her bra and shifting them down slightly so that he could touch her breasts. His lips trailed over one nipple and then the other, feeling them harden before he kissed her collarbone and then throat.

He then straightened himself, her hands brushing down his chest as he pulled away, and found her knees at his sides. He ran his hands from them to her calves and then lifted her legs from around his middle, bringing them to lie flat against his chest. He felt her tighten around him. He thrust into her without stopping, his hands holding her legs to his chest, her ankles upon his shoulders. He watched her run her hands over her own body, then into her hair, and he closed his eyes, tilting his head upwards, as he continued to plunge into her. His hands were around her knees, running up and down her thighs and calves before simply holding onto her as he increased his pace and intensity.

"Oh, Sev... Severus," she whispered achingly into the palms of her hands now covering her face. She moaned deeply, then cried out sharply, her toes curling, her chest flushed. His hands then went to her calves, parting her legs and leaning over her once more, wanting to feel her under him again. Not content with only feeling, his mouth was on her breast, his tongue flicking against a nipple, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he thrust and thrust into her. His mouth was then hard on hers, her body pinned to the table below him. She gave a strangled cry before her whole body seized against his. He did not stop but continued, listening to her anguished cry of pleasure, her arms clutching at his back as she came. He drew out her orgasm, listening to her gasp and groan in his ear, then felt her relax beneath him.

But he was not nearly finished with her. Her arms were around his neck and his arms around her back as he helped her sit up, kissing her softly on her reddened lips and cheeks as she caught her breath, perched on the edge of the table. He slowly moved in and out of her still as his hands went to the clasp on her bra and clumsily undid it. He helped her out of it, pausing for a moment before he held her tight and came to her again in frenzied movements. She dug her heels into his bottom, her open mouth pressed against his shoulder, her brow furrowed in intense pleasure as she listened to the thumping sound of his body against hers, every stroke deep and delicious.

After a little while, he stopped and with a whimper moved out of her. He took in a deep breath and picked her up, feeling her arms and legs tense as she held onto him, and carried her the short distance into his bedroom. He gently placed her in the middle of the bed and moved to lie above her. He pressed the length of himself against her, reveling in the feel of her, having missed this an absurd amount over the past couple of weeks. She grinned as his feelings were made evident in the way he never stopped kissing her, touching her.

He moved down her body, his lips finding her shoulders, her breasts, her ribs, kissing each one as he went, his lower half having moved off the bed by now. Her hands were in his hair and she made small noises of pleasure as she alternated between clenching his hair between her fingers and cupping his head. He kissed the space above her navel, then just below, now her hipbone, now the top of her thigh.

He found her center and kissed it gently, then pressed his mouth over her, his tongue flitting quickly against her, his hands caressing the skin on the underside of her thighs as he breathed in heavily through his nose. After a time she began to moan loudly, her hands going to her own hair before he stopped and moved over her once more, his lips on hers. They then moved to her ear, a hand at her waist, and he whispered, gently, "On your knees." His words struck her with a feeling akin to a lightning bolt, and she shivered despite herself.

He kissed her deeply and then moved away slightly, holding her eyes, which were intense and full and saw only him. She tore her gaze from his and turned onto her front, getting to her hands and knees. He moved to kneel on the bed behind her, his body fitting against hers, the front of his thighs pressing against the back of hers. He ran his hands down her back, caressed the fullness of her hips, and then moved to enter her once more. He did so with a gasp, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow in pleasure.

It was so good, too good, she thought, as he moved back and forth. His hands went to her lower back, enjoying the feel of her skin before gripping onto her waist and thrusting into her deeply and quickly. After a while he paused then started again, the sound of their bodies moving together heightening every sensation. She could tell from the sound of his breath that he was struggling a little bit now to remain composed, but not nearly as much as she was. His right hand went back to her center and flitted across her expertly, applying pressure as he listened to her haggard breathing, his body pressed to her back. She felt it again, but this time from deep within her, a rising wave which was equal parts numbing and electrifying. It swept up through her legs and then over her, her thighs tightening around him as she pushed against him, her back arching, her ragged moans lost in the blankets as she buried her reddened face in them. The waves rolled over her again and again, and she felt unanchored to anything but him.

He was still inside her but paused, both catching their breath, his hand absentmindedly running along her breast as he hung his head over hers, his lips upon her neck. Hermione pulled away from him and turned onto her back beneath him, her eyes luminous as they looked into his. He lowered himself onto her and folded her against him, his hands moving around to her back. He could not get enough, no, never - not enough of her mouth or her touch or any part of her.

His member pressed insistently against her thigh and they both turned onto their side. Hermione's left hand ran across Severus's lower back and then bottom and then thigh. His hand ran down along her arm, then hip, then moved to her knee. He hooked her leg over his hip, his hand then caressing her cheek, his thumb skimming along her jaw. Hermione's hand moved to his member, wanting him again, and pressed him up against her entrance. He easily entered her and began moving in and out with a fluid motion as she gasped. They both glistened with sweat, his teeth bared before he opened his eyes to look at her beside him, his eyes staring into hers, every emotion in them plain for her to read.

She shook as she ran her fingers through his hair and then pressed her palm to his cheek. He was fidgety, unable to decide what he wanted, knowing he could not hold off much longer and wanting her in every position. He stopped and moved to lie on his back, taking Hermione with him so that now she was above him. She sat up straight, the palms of her hands upon his chest as he took a rest, his eyes never parting from her. His hands laid on her thighs, feeling them strain as she gently moved up and down. After a little while, she began to move her hips back and forth and he froze, his face seemingly pained, his hands moving to her hips and holding them tight so that she stopped. It had almost been too much - he had very nearly lost control.

He took a deep breath and gently moved his legs so that his knees were near Hermione's back and his heels dug into the mattress. He thrust upwards into her, his hands cupping her breasts and his thumbs flitting over her nipples, eliciting new cries of pleasure from her. He then moved his hands onto her back, pulling her towards him so that her torso leaned upon his, unable to decide which part of her he wanted to touch the most, all of her soft and beautiful and sensuous. He moaned deeply and stopped, feeling as she kissed his forehead, both their eyes closed from the pleasure coursing through them.

They rolled so that he was over her now, his knees moving to sit alongside her thighs, her legs between his. He increased his pace and placed his forearms to sit on either side of her head, his hands in her hair, his head moving to flick away the hair that had fallen into his eyes, his brow knit in concentration. He knew now that he wanted to hold her like this until they had both finished.

"Oh, Severus," she moaned, beside herself, feeling the sensation slowly build within her, not knowing when it would hit. She felt as though she was sitting on the edge of it, her body tensing under his in anticipation, her hands clutching at his side. Her mouth was open, her body frozen, eyes closed, and the only sound for several moments was the creak of the bed as Severus moved against her. Suddenly, he felt her whole body contract beneath him as she let out a deep breath and cried, "Oh - Severus! Oh - oh fu-" His mouth was on hers before she broke away again, repeating his name for what felt like ages as she pressed back against him. His name erupting from her lips always caused a tightening inside of him that he could not ignore. He finally allowed himself to let go, his loud moans coming rhythmically with his motions, his eyes closing and then opening, meeting hers. She watched as they became blank, his breathing disjointed. He then gave a guttural cry as he came deep within her, his hands in her hair, his hips thrusting against hers to prolong this blissful moment. He finally stopped, moaned his last, and then nestled his head into Hermione's neck as they both tried to catch their breath.

She felt him relax above her, his weight pleasurable despite her shortened breath. She trailed her fingers up and down his neck before stopping, too shaky to continue.

Hermione loved this moment, she felt the most intimate of the whole event. When they laid in each other's arm, their breath in the other's ear, his heart beating just beside hers, his skin fully touching hers, he still inside her, nothing at all between them - and at the same time, everything. The trust they felt, the intimacy, the love that this meant they shared. They held each other for quite some time. Severus pressed his lips against her neck lightly before he rolled onto his side and took her with him, his warm hands on her back.

He savored her lips, pressing his to hers for a long time before gently leaving short, sweet kisses instead. "I missed you," he murmured, his left hand finding hers and bringing it near his chest, squeezing it gently. The heat of his body radiated towards her.

"I can tell," she smiled. He made a small noise in the back of his throat and breathed out of his nose quickly, akin to a short laugh. His right hand tucked her hair behind her ear before going to her back again. It was as though he needed to touch her to be certain she was there, that she was not a dream.

The affection he showed always left her breathless, the thought of her cruel professor, the man he had been to her before, such a long distance away. _He_ could not be the man in whose bed she laid, who looked at her like this, who touched her and held her as if he was not only in the process of discovering her but as if he had known her for years. However, it was most assuredly Severus Snape who lay here above her. It was his black hair lying across his face, his lips curled into a small knowing smile, his lungs in his chest that pressed against hers as he breathed. They were _his_ dark eyes that hers looked into, inscrutable, at once both fierce and gentle. They drew out of her a feeling she could not control, one that rose up in her stomach and threatened to overwhelm her entirely. She could not get enough.

He did not withhold himself from her in these moments as she had thought he would. Before she had begun to truly know him she had assumed he would be controlled in the expression of his feelings for her. He _was_ controlled, but not stifled - perhaps the correct word was directed, concentrated, she the focal point. He was not afraid of the intimacy between them, either - quite the opposite. He was incredibly attentive, she thought surely a skill refined over many years requiring the ability to sense the smallest change in the emotions of others. Perhaps it was also part of his very nature.

Hermione felt that his isolation for so many years must have been terrible to endure. He had almost surely spent that time deeply craving what everyone wants, whether they were to admit it or not - love and affection, expressed as a kiss or a brush of fingers or pressing of skin to skin. He was a man simply like any other, one with an intense array of emotions which had had no outlet - not until her.

They had opened to each other fully, both knowing that neither had had this type of relationship with anyone else before. And once they had become physically involved... A stirring began again in Hermione, and she blushed. They had become intoxicated with the other. There was never enough. They wanted each other in every way - passionate, tender, breathless, soulful, wanting to take the other and be taken, impatient for the moment of their release and yet wanting more as soon as it ended, forever sated yet insatiable.

"I missed you too," she admitted, her thumb running along the back of the hand she held. She was thankful she had not had much free time to think about it, and not just their physical relationship. She enjoyed it of course, but it was only one part of this complex and intense relationship they shared. She had missed other things too, like the calm of his presence when she was feeling frantic, his true interest in what she was learning and thinking, and the pleasure of companionship, simply having someone at her side to keep her company on those long nights of revision. However, she was thankful studying for her N.E.W.T.s had been so engrossing. To be separated from him with nothing to focus her mind on would have been nearly unbearable.

"I should imagine you're glad it's over?" he asked quietly.

"The exams, yes, but otherwise... I'll miss it." She suddenly felt quite sad. It had only now really hit her that her days as a student at Hogwarts were over, a mournful thought despite the fact that her apprenticeship with Severus would start as soon as she liked.

He skimmed his right hand along the outline of her body. He appeared slightly apologetic, as though he were somehow to blame for this inevitable step in her life. He said quietly, almost flippantly, "If it's any consolation, I am sure the next few years will be quite strenuous for you."

"Strenuous?" she asked, her voice taking on a slight lilt. He realized her insinuation before she said, a small smirk upon her lips, "Do you mean academically?"

He pressed his lips together, looking equal parts peeved and amused as she suppressed a giggle. "I couldn't imagine what else I _would_ mean."

His eyes grew soft as she tilted her head up to kiss him. She ran her hand up and down his forearm as he watched her fondly. "So what have you been keeping yourself busy with, then?" she asked. She reached behind her and pulled the duvet which hung off her side of the bed over her, so she was now covered by it.

"Hardly anything," he responded dryly, watching her curl up under the blanket. She looked amused. "The highlights include a thorough clean of my office, taking inventory of the storeroom, and going out onto the grounds last weekend for some collecting." She had nestled close to him, his fingertips twisting the tips of her hair as he spoke.

"Did you find anything interesting?" She yawned, tired from the cumulative strain of the past few weeks and feeling particularly comfortable here beside him.

"A bit of asphodel and hellebore, but not much else."

She yawned again. "Perhaps we can try our luck tomorrow, if the weather isn't too terrible."

"Yes... let's," he replied, looking pleased at the prospect, of tomorrow and every day that was to follow. His eyes took her in again. "Would you like me to leave you for a little bit, to rest?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to fall asleep just now. But I don't want to get out either." She pulled the covers even closer to her body as though to make a point. "I'm just a bit chilly. Would you mind sending through my clothes?"

"Sending through?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes, from the other room. When you go to get your wand," she explained, an expectant smile on her face. "You left it on the table."

His lips thinned before turning into a smirk. "Perhaps I'm a bit chilly too," he retorted, his body shifting to lie against hers, his hand bringing up his half of the duvet over them. "Perhaps I can warm you up instead." She giggled as he kissed her again and again, not wanting to leave her side after so long away from her.

It would be a little while longer before either of them gathered up the courage to leave the bed.

* * *

Thank you to those who requested the two weeks later - this one's for you!

Check out this particular Severus and Hermione in my much longer fic _Confluence of Truths_. xx


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